Lungs And Other Valuables
by LadyLazarus33
Summary: Sometimes he feels like his heart is being constricted, and the rest of the world is looking at him like a specimen in a museum.


Nighttime should have been a blessing, for it was the day, amidst the light, the sound that he was convicted for his crimes. But at night, when there was only him, the angel tossed from grace to fall and drown in the cold and the dark and the _silence, _until he couldn't breathe; there's nothing to help him claw back to the surface.

He drifts, and sometimes wonders how long he can hold his breath until he doesn't breathe.

It seems as though this place isn't a cell, more like a ocean for him to sink to the bottom, which he often does. The pressure is sometimes a bit too much down there, but it's the only place they assume he'll stay.

That's when the woman comes.

She usually orders them all out, her face stern and cold, emotionless. They scurry out, the cowards, like rats, and then it's just her and tries to stare her down, but her gaze is still the same, cold.

Weeks or days go by, and the silence smothers.

Sometimes she comes in, and sits not looking, not talking, just sitting. The pressure of the silence is relieved, but it's still crushes them. Her regal stance, for he knows she is a queen, is somewhat diminished each time she comes. Something about it is changing them, for better, for worse, they don't know.

Time passes, and he tries to breathe without killing them both.

He may be dead, he muses to himself, when the sun comes through the windows, and lights the floor. How else can one explain why he can't feel it's warmth anymore. The queen, more like lioness prowls into the room, past the guards. They open the door without question, the cowards. He smirks slightly, a sudden twitch, unnoticeable to anyone but him...and her. The woman kicks off her shoes and sits on the opposite side, just looking at him. She's beautiful, he realizes suddenly but a different kind from the other women he's seen. His eyes send her a greeting on the other side, and suddenly he is mesmerized by the way her hair turns from auburn to bronze in the sunlight.

She gives him a smile stolen from corpses.

Nighttime falls, and he's goes with it, though something holds him back.

People have retired, sleeping and dreaming, something that he can't do anymore. The moon cuts through the windows, the cold light slicing across the floor, making him bleed. The silence is back, and he doesn't know if he can take it, just as he doubts and wonders every night.

She finds him leaning against the wall, back to her as usual. She slips in quietly, and sits beside him for a long while.

His body eventually turns to face her. He sees that she's dressed in a nightgown, and her hair, which was usually pinned up in intricate hairstyles, was now pulled back in a messy braid, with pieces falling out around her face. One of her feet, bare, peeked out from underneath the white nightgown, while the other just brushed the floor. Her eyes bore into his, and gingerly she reaches out a hand to brush the back of her fingertips along his cheek. He almost flinches at the contact, warm on cold, so cold. He tries to keep control, but it seems to be getting farther and farther away from him.

The light on the rocks flickers, and his ship sinks.

He chokes back a sob as she comes closer to him, enveloping him in her pale arms. He cries, muttering and mumbling unintelligible words, and her _name._ The name that makes him gasp for breath and want to die for the animal that he has become.

_Mother. _

He sobs into her dress, quiet sobs,making his frame shake, almost violently. She's understanding, too understanding to a point that it hurts him. She holds him tighter and presses kisses into his hair, combing through the tresses with her fingertips. His head somehow ends up in her lap and she still holds him, combing her fingers through his hair.

He still cries, less violently now and she holds him. It doesn't make sense really, how a goddess like her would care for such a _sinner_.

She tells him she loves him, and he _breathes_.


End file.
